The One That Got Away
by Andorra97
Summary: Modern AU: Tom Branson is a successful journalist from Dublin. He comes back to England for a business trip, after leaving it for Dublin five years ago with a broken heart and after swearing never to see the woman again, who did it. Will he ever be able to forget the one that got away?
1. Chapter 1

_This story is new territory for me. Usually I have at least half of the story written before I start posting, but this time I'll just write as I go. So don't expect updates every two or three days. I'm thinking more of updating once a week or something like that._

_I'm not sure what will happen to our favourite OTP, but those who know me, will know that my stories usually end well._

_I can't thank Scarletcourt enough for editing the story for me despite her busy life and Angiemaz that she allowed me to use her manip as picture for this story._

_Enjoy!_

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Tom Branson took a quick glance at his notes one last time before he was called to the front of the room by the elderly professor.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Tom Branson, editor of _The Irish Times_. Most of you will know him by name, but for those who don't, let me give you a quick introduction. Mr. Branson studied Political Science and Journalism here in London and then returned to his hometown Dublin to become a journalist for _The Irish Times_. He's worked as a correspondent in the middle east for many years before he became editor a year ago. He will speak to you a bit about his career as a journalist and then you're free to ask questions."

Friendly applause came from the audience and Tom smiled at the crowd. He felt drawn back to the time he was a student himself and sat in the same room, eager to learn everything about journalism and to become a writer - his dream job, everything he always wanted to be. It had been a wonderful time and he had enjoyed every second of it. Of course _she_ had been there sitting right next to him back then ...

Tom mentally shook himself. Not the right time to think about her. Not that any time was good to think about her, but he did anyway. Here in the familiar atmosphere of the university he went to nearly six years ago, it was even more difficult to keep those thoughts away. It was here that they met after all, and here that they fell in love. At least he had, madly and head over heels. He still hadn't recovered even after five years.

Again, he shook himself. _Get back to your speech_, he sternly reminded himself. He told the students about his time as a freelancer. How hard it had been to get good stories and to sell articles. What he didn't tell them was that he was so deeply depressed during that time that he didn't even care what became of him. It had been the time right after she dumped him. "Too much pressure," she had told him and that she couldn't leave her parents and friends just like that to move with him to Dublin. He had been ready to stay in London if she wanted him to do so, but she refused. She had said she wanted time to think it through. He should go to Dublin and they would see if their love survived, and that had been it. Two months later she broke up with him. On the phone, crying, telling him she couldn't leave her world to be with him. He would never forget that call. It had been the worst day of his life.

For months, he had barely existed. He had worked, because work had been the only thing that kept him going, but he didn't remember doing anything beyond that. Another horrible day had been, when he heard she had gotten married. He had gotten so drunk after hearing the news that he ended up in hospital.

It had been only a few weeks later when he had gotten the correspondent job in the middle east. He told the students about his life in the middle of the Iraqi war. It had been adventurous and a dangerous time, but it had also been a time of healing, at least a little bit. He had been able to go through longer periods where he didn't constantly think of her. He had even started dating again, some other correspondent from a different newspaper. They had gone out for a few months, but it hadn't led to anything. In the end, he had broken up with her, telling her he was still too hung up on another woman, which had been the awful truth, and it still was, although he had tried dating a few times in the last years, but he hadn't been able to forget her. Not a week went by in which he didn't think of her.

Still the correspondent job had been good for him. Career-wise, it had been a huge step. He made a name of himself as a journalist and when he had returned to Ireland, he had received great offers from different newspapers and then the offer for the editor position had come. It had been a dream come true and an amazing job after just a few years as a journalist.

He told the students about his current work. What his daily routine was and what his responsibilities were. After that, he finished his speech and the audience asked quite a few questions. He hadn't time to reminiscent about his past, while he answered them as truthfully and as informative as he could. The hour flew by and the students thanked him again with a friendly applause. He stayed for a while to chat to the professor, before he said his goodbye and left.

Xxxxx

Walking through the campus, his thoughts drifted back again to the time he had been here as a student. That cafover there had been their favourite. They had met there almost every day after their lessons over a coffee, together with a few friends, before they headed home, either to his place or hers, mostly hers, because she lived alone and they had more privacy there than in his flat that he had shared with two other guys.

And privacy they had craved because they had been as passionately in love as two people could be. Tom had never before and certainly never afterwards experienced anything like it. Every time they were together, it was magical to him. He couldn't get enough of her, wanting to feel the connection the emotional bond and the physical closeness as often and as fiercly as he could. _God!_ He still got aroused thinking about her, after all these years. Would it ever stop?

He decided to leave the campus as fast as he could. It was doing him no good to be so close to his memories. What had he been thinking, coming here again? He should have known it would have throw him back full force down memory lane. He wasn't ready for that and probably never would be.

Deeply in thought, he turned a corner and bumped directly into a woman who came from the other direction. Folders, Books and Paper were flying everywhere and only his quick reaction saved her from falling, when he grabbed her by her shoulders to steady her.

"Oh my god, I'm so sor..." he apologized when she looked up and the words froze on his lips.

"Tom?"

"Sybil..."

Instantly he let go of her shoulders, standing in front of her stiffly, his arms pressed to his side awkwardly as if he wanted to keep them from reaching out to her again as he watched her sorting her books and folders. His pressed his lips together and to his horror he felt a lump forming in his throat.

_No. This can't be happening. No. _

She then looked at him with the same beautiful blue eyes he had loved so much back then, still loved. Dark lashes that were fanning her cheeks, the delicate nose, the lips as full and inviting as he remembered. How he had loved to kiss them. She was as beautiful as ever.

"Tom, what are you doing here?" she asked him and he had to clear his throat twice before he could answer. "I held a speech for the journalism students."

She nodded. "Oh I see. You're editor of _The Irish Times_, right? I read about it on the internet."

So she had googled him? Did she think about him sometimes? Did she ever regret ... no. That was wishful thinking and he had to stop it. She had been the one who dumped him. She didn't love him enough, it was as simple as that.

He should just find an excuse and leave, but instead he found himself asking. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here, actually. I'm a poli sci prof now," she answered. "I never went into journalism after all, but stayed in poli sci and got my doctorate instead. Professor Bennet was very gracious, he gave me the opportunity after I wrote my thesis and I took it."

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know that." _Or otherwise I would never have come here. _Now he regretted that he had stopped googling her after he found out she had married. He had done it to keep himself from hurting, but he knew seeing her now would hurt much worse than anything before.

"I bet you're a great prof," he tried to say something sensible and couldn't help the warmth creeping into his voice.

She smiled a little bashfully and then she raised her eyes to his. "It's good to see you," she said. Hesitating slightly she asked: "Do you have time for a coffee?"

He wanted to say no. He knew it was the sensible thing, but he found he couldn't. Even after all she had put him through he was unable to deny her anything and so he heard himself say: "Sure."

Just like that.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry, it took so long for a new update, but I broke my arm a week ago. I'm still writing, but I have to say, the story will take a bit longer than I thought, since typing isn't the best thing with your arm in a cast. Here's the second chapter. I hope you'll like it! I'm always happy about feedback!_

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"So..."

They were sitting across each other at a café nearby. Tactfully, she hadn't chosen the one they went back then. Or maybe she didn't remember? Maybe, it was just him.

She looked so beautiful. He couldn't help but drinking in her features greedily. She hadn't changed at all and she was still the most beautiful woman. With an absent smile, he noticed that her hair was falling in her face like it always did. She had been always complaining over her wild locks, always trying to tame them somehow, but he had always loved her hair, especially when it resisted taming like it did right now. He had once said it was a symbol of her free spirit. She had laughed then and kissed him thoroughly, obviously liking the comparison.

"So how are you doing?" she asked, her smile genuine and warm. "I've read about your new job. It's wonderful, isn't it? You ought to be so proud."

He looked down on his cup of coffee. Staring too much into her face was just too painful. "Yeah. It's wonderful and I really enjoy it," he answered lamely.

He loved his work, it was the one thing in his life that he did get right. But still he didn't want to talk about it. What he really wanted to do was yell and scream at her, releasing all the pain that was in him. He wanted to know why. Why did she do that to him? He had loved her so much and he had thought she returned his love and then ... how could she leave him? How could she marry another man?

He wouldn't do it, of course. Instead he just sipped on his coffee and desperately hoped his hands weren't shaking.

"Are you married?" she asked and he almost laughed. _Married. Not even close._ He was completely screwed up and she was to blame.

"No," he answered curtly. "I've read that you are though." He tried to force his voice to remain neutral, but it still sounded bitter to his own ears.

"Was," she said softly. "I'm divorced."

"Oh?" What was he supposed to say to that?

She looked down now, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She always used to do that, especially when she was nervous.

"It was a complete disaster," she said. "I shouldn't have married him in the first place, but his father is my father's best friend and after ..." She paused and cleared her throat before she continued. "Anyway, everyone thought it was a great match, and it turned out to be hell."

"Do you have children?" he couldn't help asking.

Sybil shook her head. "Thank God, no. It would have made things so much worse. No, luckily it's all over. I don't have to see Larry again, I have my work, my independence and that chapter is closed."

_Like our chapter. Only that it is still not closed for me._

It was all too much. He couldn't do this. He couldn't just sit here and drink coffee with her, pretending that they were friendly acquaintances from the past and that he was happy to see her. He wasn't. It hurt. It still hurt after five years, everything inside him wanted to scream from inner pain.

And then seemingly out of nowhere it all came out. "Why did you leave me, Sybil?" He heard himself ask, interrupting her roughly in the middle of telling him about her work at the university. He didn't want to, but the words wouldn't be stopped. Not after they had burned inside him for years and haunted his nights so many times.

She stopped what she was saying, looked at him and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. She tried to speak, but she had to swallow hard. When she answered, it was barely audible.

"I'm sorry."

That was what she had said back then on the phone, too. "I'm sorry." _Sorry for what? For not loving me?_

"It's not an answer to my question." His voice sounded cold and he had no idea where it came from. It was as if someone else was talking while he watched from the outside, too emotionally exhausted to form words or even thoughts, but he did want to know. He desperately needed to know.

She silently stared down at her hands. Then up to his face and back down again.

No answer. Just silence. He remembered their talk over the phone like it was yesterday. He had heard in her voice that she was crying. He had asked her why, yelled at her, begged her, told her he loved her, promised to come back to London. But there had only been silence and her crying. No explanation, and then the line went dead and he never spoke to her again. He had tried. Called her, left messages, texted her, wrote to her, emails, letters. No answer. And still no answer now.

"Look," he said. "I 'm going. You didn't want to talk to me back then and you obviously don't want to talk to me now. It's not as if you owe me answers, but I can't pretend I want to talk to you about the weather, Sybil, because I really don't."

He waved the waitress over to their table and he paid for their two coffees. Sybil was still sitting in front of him saying nothing. He could see tears rolling down her face and his heart clenched. He had shed so many tears over her, he thought there could be no room for pain left and still it hurt more to see her cry.

_Don't cry, Sybil. I love you. I don't want to hurt you._

Sighing he raised from his chair and took his jacket. "If you didn't love me," he said. "Why didn't you say so? I thought we were always honest to one another."

He didn't wait for an answer. He turned around to leave, practically running away from her and out of the café. It was a nightmare.

He was at the door, when he heard her. "Tom!"

_No. You're not going to look back. _

He would never see her again. Never.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much to all of you, who have commented on my story. As you know I'm a bit handicapped with my arm in a cast, so I didn't respond personally to each one of you, but I do appreciate your comments very, very much!_

_The angst isn't over yet in the story, I'm afraid, but I hope you'll "enjoy" it anyway..._

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The TV was on, but Tom stared at the screen without seeing anything.

_Of all the people to meet on a one week trip to London! _

_She's divorced ... _

_A complete disaster. And what did she mean with "after"? After me? _

_She's so beautiful. _

_I still love her._

"Fuck!" He swore under his breath. He switched the television off. There was no sense in pretending to watch anyway.

_What now?_

He looked around in his hotel room. Cold and sparsely furnished like all hotel rooms. He had been in so many over the years. Travelling was part of his job and he was used to the lonely evenings in cities where he didn't know a soul. Usually he just stayed in, read a bit, worked a bit, and watched a bit of TV. He wasn't one to go down into the bar, drinking alone or on the prowl to hit on some woman. He knew the raucous stories from some of his colleagues who bragged about their "conquests" on the road, but he had never been tempted.

He was tempted now though, he realized. In fact, he longed to shag her out of his system somehow.

_As if that is possible. _

Wasn't that what he had tried to do for the last few years? Of course he had called it "dating" and he had tried to find a connection with the women he had "dated", and of course failed to do so. But then he had slept with some of them anyway, although he was well aware even then that he didn't love any of them, just a sympathy shag in most cases.

He wasn't any better than those colleagues,just pretending to be.

"Fuck!" He swore again. He couldn't stay here, so he stood up, grabbed his wallet and his keys and headed out the door.

Xxxxxx

She was blonde, petite and with eyes like a cat. She didn't resemble "her" in any way, and _she _was the one hitting on _him_ within ten minutes of him taking his seat at the bar.

"Alone?" she asked.

_Not very subtle. _

But he nodded. She took that as an invitation to take a seat next to him. For a moment, they just eyed one another. She was pretty, though looked a bit cheap, but not too much, and definitely not his type. Not warm, not radiant, not like her at all.

"I'm Edna." She gave him a bright smile. "Edna Braithwaite."

_I can't believe it's that easy._

"Tom." He heard himself say and gave her a smile of his own. "Tom Branson."

Xxxxxx

"Mary, are you busy?" She almost didn't recognize her sister's voice. Sybil was crying.

"Just a minute, darling, I'll be right with you," Mary said instantly. She pressed the button to speak with her secretary. "Linda, I'm not available for the next 15 minutes. I've got an urgent call."

_Fabulous woman, Linda._ She didn't complain about long hours even though it would be past nine in the evening on days like this. She earned every penny of her generous salary.

"What's wrong?" she asked when she got back to Sybil. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home. It's ... I really needed someone to talk to so ... I'm sorry if you're working late ..."

"It's all right," Mary said. "Just tell me what happened."

She could hear her sister start to cry again. "Oh, Mary," she sobbed. "I saw Tom."

_"Tom?"_

Who was Tom? Was it about work? Sybil had been very stressed lately because of some paper she wanted to get published in a political magazine? Was this "Tom" somehow responsible for that?

Sybil was still crying and talking about "Tom" being still angry with her and wanting "answers".

"Which Tom, Sybil?" Mary finally asked not sure how to respond.

There was a moment of silence. "Tom Branson," Sybil then said quietly. "You can't tell me you have forgotten."

_Tom Branson, Tom Branson... oh! Oh, the uni boyfriend who wanted Sybil to follow him to Dublin! That was his name. _

"I haven't," she said hastily. "He was the guy from uni, right?"

"Yes."

Mary raised her eyebrow. "So what about him? Is he back in London then?"

"He did a presentation today at the uni. He's editor of _The Irish Times_," Sybil sounded calmer now. "He's become very successful."

"Oh good for him," Mary said. "But why did it upset you to see him?"

Silence, then the dial tone. Sybil had ended the call.

Xxxxxx

They stumbled into Edna's room in the hotel only an hour later. It was odd, but Tom had a deep-seated desire, almost frantic.

Even with his eyes closed he couldn't pretend it was _her._ She felt completely different and for the split of a second he felt pathetic that he still remembered how she had felt in his arms after five years.

Had she thought about him when she had slept with her husband? Did she come thinking of him instead of her bloody husband? Did she scream _his_ name in her mind the same way as he screamed hers so numerous times?

He felt gosebumps on his body and was just short of tearing Edna's blouse off, only the last remnants of his usual self prevented him from doing so. There was no elegance in their undressing, nothing sensual. Not like unwrapping a gift and discovering what lay beneath. They just got rid of their clothes in quick, hurried movements, not even glancing once. No shame, no hesitation, no pretence, only signals that brought a response. Nice tits, great arse, nice legs. He had a raging hard on.

He didn't care about her, his mind as ice cold as his body was on fire. He didn't care if she would enjoy it. He had always prided himself of being a generous lover, one who always sought to give pleasure as much as to take it.

But not this time. When he felt her lips close around him while she knelt on the floor. He knew that there was no way he was going to be returning the favour. This time he was just going to shag himself senseless.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I'm sorry that I can't answer personally right now, but my arm is still hurting. I got rid of the cast this week though! So typing is a bit easier. I hope to be back to my old self in a few weeks. _

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Hate sex didn't make you feel any better. In the contrary, it made you feel worse.

Tom stood under the shower for a half hour and let the water run. Luckily they had been in her room and not in his, so he could just leave afterwards with a flimsy excuse and not run her out of his room or wait until she left on her own accord.

He felt awful.

_Big surprise. Nothing's changed. You're still heartbroken and now add dirty and guilty to the mixture._

The water started cooling, but he didn't move. He just stood there. He didn't even know if it had been pleasurable for Edna after all. He hoped it somehow had been. Now that he was thinking about it again, it weighed heavily on his conscience that he didn't pay attention to her at all.

He had only used her. He had used a woman like a piece of meat to get rid of his frustration.

_God, you're a jerk, Tom Branson._

He was disgusted with himself. The only consolation was, that she, in her own way, had been doing the same to him. She had used him, too. At least that was his impression of her. He desperately hoped it wasn't just his guilty conscience coming up with excuses.

The act itself had been a release, but strangely it didn't bring any... release. Yes, the urge was gone, but the desperation didn't lessen and the pain was still there. His body was still aching and his soul crying just as before.

_What am I going to do? _

One thing was for sure: He couldn't go on like this. He had gone on for far too long now. Five years! He had lost fiveives years of his life to pain and hurt, and for what? Seeing her again at the uni, he realized that he hadn't move forward at all in that time She was still able to shake him to his core.

The water was cold now and he shivered, but he still didn't move and only when his hot tears seared his face did he realize he was crying. Again.

As if I hadn't done that enough!

It had to end. He had to move on and quit just pretending to do so.

Xxxxxx

"Professor Jones!" Sybil caught up a little breathless to the elder man just outside the auditorium.

He turned around surprised. "Ms Crawley?"

"Excuse me, Professor Jones, but I heard that you had a journalist yesterday as a guest speaker?"

He nodded. "Yes, that's right. Mr. Branson from _The Irish Times_ was guest speaker yesterday. Why?"

Sybil hesitated. "Oh, I just wondered ... I mean will he be speaking again? You see, I know him from before when we both studied here and I thought I might say hello."

"No, it was just yesterday, I'm afraid," the professor said.

_He's gone._ Sybil felt a lump building in her throat. She swallowed hard.

"Thank you," she then said quietly. "Well, it wasn't that important."

She turned around to go back, when she heard Professor Jones say: "He said he would be in London for a week though."

Xxxxxx

Tom was just drinking his first cup of coffee in the hotel's breakfast room, when he looked up and saw Edna Braithwaite entering. Feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment, he immediately looked down at his newspaper, praying she wouldn't see him, but it didn't take more than a few seconds when he heard her asking: "Mind if I sit down, here?"

"No, no, of course not," he hastened to reply although he did mind. He really didn't want to talk to her and at the same time he had the feeling he owed her something, because of his bad behaviour during the night.

She seemed to be completely oblivious to his feeling of awkwardness though and smiled while buttering toast. "So, how did you sleep?" she asked.

"Fine," he answered, after swallowing. "Thank you." He watched her while she stirred her cup of tea. She was pretty, he had to give her that, but he was surprised by how much he wanted to be elsewhere. She definitely wasn't his type and he couldn't even explain why. Maybe it was her boldness, which admittedly had come handy yesterday, but it turned him off now. "And you?" he nevertheless asked her politely.

Green cat eyes looked up from her breakfast. "Oh, very well, thank you," she said. "The night was very _satisfactory_, actually."

_Well that's a relief at least._ Tom felt a weight lift from his heart. If she enjoyed it, it meant that he didn't have to pretend out of guilt wanting to pursue their relationship any more.

"Good to hear." He smiled a bit and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I really must go to work."

Xxxxxx

He dove into his work that day and managed to avoid thinking of Sybil or his one night stand as best as he could. He was used to squishing down thoughts and images of Sybil anyway, since he had thought of her regularly. It didn't take much to make her image invade his thoughts. A word, a topic in the newspapers, a joke, sometimes even a flower and very often a woman who resembled her in any way did the trick. The images then would come immediately, and the corresponding pain in his heart that had turned into more like a dull ache somewhere deep within these days and not the sudden pain that robbed him his ability to breathe, as it had been the first weeks after she left him, but it was still there and it felt very fresh today.

He returned to his hotel emotionally drained and exhausted and he just longed for a shower and sleep. Maybe a whiskey or two to slow down his thoughts and blocking out more of the feelings he had to avoid all day. He didn't want to go down to the bar for it, though, in fear of meeting Edna there, so he ordered room-service instead. He poured himself a glass of Whiskey and decided that he was going to work a bit more this evening. Nothing better to keep his mind occupied than work.

It worked better than he had thought, he was so focused on his article that he had no idea how much time had passed, when suddenly there was a knock at his door. When he stood up to open it, he noticed, startled, that he had been working for over an hour already.

His face fell when he saw who was standing outside his door. It was Edna.

"Hi, Tom," she smiled at him under her long lashes. "I felt a bit lonely down in the bar and I thought we might rekindle our friendship from yesterday, perhaps?"

Tom suppressed the annoyed answer that sprung to mind and smiled politely instead. "No," he said firmly. "I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm working tonight."

Her face fell, but she didn't give up immediately. "Aw, Tom," she purred, sliding one hand suggestively up his chest. "All work and no fun? Maybe you'll want some company later? When you're done?"

"No," he said again, trying his best not to flinch under her touch. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so."

He watched as her face registered that he wasn't interested and he felt guilty for a moment, but then he decided that he had no responsibility to her at all. There was no need to feel guilty for rejecting a one-night-stand with a woman he knew nothing about and just had met the day before.

He closed the door without waiting for another response and went back to his laptop. He felt uncomfortable that she had come to his room, a bit of stalkerish behaviour in his opinion. He had thought their intentions last night had been absolutely clear: Sex only. Her behaviour hadn't implied anything else and his certainly hadn't either,or so he thought. So why was she seeking him out?

_I'm going to change hotels in the morning._

He sat down to work again, when it knocked at his door again.

_Oh, no! This is getting creepy! _

"Really," he said annoyed when he opened the door. "Can't you see that I don't want to talk to you? Please, let me alone and go away!"

But it wasn't Edna standing before him. It was Sybil.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry my dear readers, that it took me so long to update. Here's one part of the big talk. I'm a bit afraid to disappoint you with Sybil's reasons, but think "Persuasion" here. I thought Sybil was very young then and very gullible._

_So with further ado: Enjoy!_

Sybil stared at him. "I can go—." She was taken aback by his unfriendly demeanor.

"No!" he said hastily. "No, it was ... I didn't know it was you. Please ..."

He opened the door. "Please come in."

Sybil nodded and stepped into his room. For a moment they both didn't say anything. Sybil was looking around, her glance falling at his laptop. "You're working?" she asked nervously. "I didn't mean to ... I mean if you're busy I can just ..."

"No," Tom said again. "It's okay, really. I am not busy." Another awkward pause filled the room, before he remembered that she was still wearing her coat.

"Here, let me take this," he said. He took the coat and brought it to the hook by the door. Sybil was standing in the middle of the room, looking down at her feet.

"Do you want something to drink?" Tom asked, to cover the awkwardness between them.

She shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ear. "No, thank you," she said quietly. Then she took a deep breath. "You wanted answers, Tom, and I think you deserve to hear them."

Xxxxxx

_**Five years prior...**_

_"It's out of the question, Sybil. You are not going to move to Ireland with some man you hardly know." Robert Crawley's voice was furious. "You will stay here and find a job in London. I forbid it."_

_Sybil raised her chin. She would not give in. She would not let them pressure her, even though they were all against her and she felt more like standing in front of a tribunal instead of her family. Her father was pacing the room, her grandmother, mother and sisters were all sitting stiffly on the expensive sofa in Downton's drawing room._

_It was not their first discussion about it. For days she had been fighting with them now, and every discussion lead to tears. She was exhausted and tired, and she wished Tom was there to stand beside her, but he was in Dublin, looking for a flat and visiting his family, and he had no idea that she was fighting for him. She was her own woman, he admired her free spirit. _

_She would not give in. She would NOT give in._

_"You can't forbid it, Papa," Sybil said. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I'm going to Dublin. I can look for a job there as well as here."_

_"Oh yes, I can forbid it. For starters you won't get a single penny from me any more. Then show me how you can make it on your own."_

_Sybil snorted. "Blackmail, huh? Well I can bloody well live without your money! I'll live with Tom."_

_At this point Mary spoke up, who had stayed out of their discussion so far. "But Sybil, you said yourself that he's only freelancing. You can't expect him to pay for you, too. He'll have trouble enough to support himself."_

_Sybil bit her lips. That hurt. Mary was right. She could not impose on Tom to support her while she was going to search for a job, although she was sure he would rather starve than refuse to help her out. But she couldn't allow him to do that. _

_Fact was that she didn't have a job in Dublin and that it was difficult to get one. It was easier for Tom, who was Irish and who had much more practical experience in writing than she had. Tom was born to be a journalist, she was sure of it but she wasn't so sure about herself. She always had planned to go into journalism, that was why she also had studied political science, but lately she didn't know any more. And she hadn't really dared to talk about it with Tom, who was so enthusiastic about them both going to Dublin and to make it big in political journalism. The problem was: She wanted to go to Dublin with him, but she didn't know if journalism was the right job for her any more._

_Mary was still speaking. "I actually think it is very selfish from him to expect you to give up everything here and go to a foreign country with him. Who does he think he is that he can bully you into such a decision?"_

_"He's not bullying me into anything." Sybil insisted. "He said he would stay in London with me if I wanted. We love each other. We want to stay together, is it really so hard to explain? You know him! You've met him. You must know how he feels about me."_

_Robert rolled his eyes. "Yes, we have met him, and I'm sorry to say, Sybil, but I wasn't impressed. He might be a charming fellow to you, but he is a bit too radical for me, and about 'we know how he feels about you', do we really know it? Do YOU really know it?"_

_"What do you mean?" _

_"Well, he didn't ask you to marry him, did he? He wants you to leave your family, your friends, your country and live with him without any promise of commitment."_

_"But we are committed to each other, "Sybil protested. "Yes, we haven't talked about marriage, but it's still early in our relationship. For heaven's sake, Papa, we've only been together for a year."_

_"Exactly," Mary cut in. "You can't throw your whole life away after just a year, Sybil. It's just not sensible!"_

_Tears welled in Sybil's eyes. It had been hard enough to fight with her father, now Mary, too? "What shall I do then?" she asked her sister. "Ask him to stay in London for me? He would do it! He offered to do it!"_

_"No," Mary said cooly. "Then you would be just as selfish as he is. Tell him to go to Dublin. Let him start his career and give yourself time to consider if it is really what you want." _

Xxxxxx

"Why didn't you tell me how much they pressured you?" Tom asked when Sybil finished. "I would have stayed in London. You know I would have, in a heartbeat!"

Sybil nodded. "I know," she said. "But how could I ask you to do that for me, when I wasn't able to make the same sacrifice for you."

"Anyway," she then continued. "You went to Dublin and I was determined to follow you as soon as possible. But then, " she swallowed hard. "It became worse. They didn't stop, they kept going on and on about it and more and more I felt so weak and helpless, but I couldn't make my point. No matter what I said, they twisted it and it came right back at me."

She was crying now and Tom's heart clenched when she choked. "I shouldn't try to lay all the blame on them though. It was _me _and me alone who made the final decision, wasn't it? And it broke my heart, Tom!"

"Why?" he asked hoarsely. "Why did you do it?"

She raised her eyes to him. "Because I wasn't the person you loved," she whispered.

"But..."

"No," she sobbed. "Don't you see? You loved my 'free spirit'. You so often told me, and you thought I was brave and fearless. But I wasn't! I was weak and gullible. I so wanted to be the person you loved, but I was just an imposter. I didn't even tell you that I didn't want to become a journalist any longer!"

She shook her head, the tears rolling down her face and down on her hands. She tried to compose herself again and took a deep breath.

"So I decided that I would end our relationship," she then said quietly." I didn't want you to find out who I really was. I didn't want you to be disappointed, and that's why I ended all contact although it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

He stared at her. "Sybil..." His voice trailed off, he honestly didn't know what to say.

"And your marriage?" he then asked.

She gave a bitter laugh. "After I broke up with you, I didn't care about anything, really. One day Larry asked me out. My family was delighted of course, because they knew Larry since he was little and he is from our "circle" you know. I was at the lowest point in my self esteem to that time, so I just did what everyone expected."

"I nearly killed myself when I heard," Tom said. "There are still three days missing from my memory."

Sybil's eyes filled with tears again. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so very sorry. I knew I hurt you, but I thought it would be even worse when you found out that I wasn't the woman you thought you I was."

Tom shook his head and she swallowed hard when she saw that he had tears in his eyes, too.

She took a deep breath. "Anyway, at least my marriage brought me back to life then. Not in a good way, but just because I realized that no matter how little I thought of myself, I was still too good to be trapped in a marriage with an abuser, and it also made me realize how my family bullied me into giving up the most important person in my life. So in ending my marriage my healing began."

He nodded. "But why didn't you get in contact with me then?" he asked.

"After more than three years? I was sure you've moved on by then, and I read that you were abroad. I didn't see the point ..."

"I was still in love with you," he whispered. "I _am_ still in love with you. I never stopped."

Sybil raised her eyes to his and for a moment they just stared at one another unmoving.

"Oh, Tom," she then whispered. "What now?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the looooong delay! But I was on vacation and posting the story would have been to complicated. I had probably the slowest internet connection ever!_

_I must warn you also, that I didn't get any writing done in the last weeks. I would have thought vacation is the perfect time for it, but no, I was busier than ever. My muse has yet to strike me again how I want to proceed in this story, but I'm sure feedback will bring me back on track mediately (hint hint). _

_As always, I must thank Scarlet for her amazing help in editing my stories. Thank you!_

_So without further ado, here's part two of Sybil's and Tom's big talk. Enjoy!_

.

.

For a while they just sat there and stared at one another, both not sure what to say. Finally, Sybil broke eye contact and looked down at her hands.

"I see," she said quietly.

"God, Sybil," Tom groaned suddenly. He covered his face with his hands. "Why didn't you tell me then? Why didn't you tell me they were putting so much pressure on you?" he asked when he looked up again.

"I wanted to be strong and fight them, " Sybil explained. "I wanted to be the woman that you loved."

He shook his head. "But I loved you! And I would have gladly fought for us at your side. You didn't need to do it alone!"

Sybil hung her head. "I know now," she whispered. "I know, Tom. But I was stupid. I thought I could do it. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be just as strong and independent as I wanted to be. I wanted to live my life and make my decisions and then they just..." She swallowed and her voice broke. "They just kept on and on and I got weaker and weaker and you were in Ireland, and then finally I gave up."

She clasped her fingers and choked. "You had started your new life, I couldn't expect you to come back! I felt like such a failure! I didn't want you to find out!"

Tom's heart clenched when he saw her crying and he couldn't help it. He reached out and laid his arms around her. "I would have understood, love," he murmured into her hair. "I would have come back. Oh, why didn't you tell me?"

They clung to one another, both crying now. Tom pressed his face into her hair and mourned all the lost years. All that time, he had thought she had left him because she didn't love him any more and he had felt stupid to have given his heart so completely to a woman who didn't deserve it. He had wanted to hate her for that, but found he had been unable to,and now, it was all changed in a short night. Still they both had suffered the same heartache.

Finally, Sybil withdrew from their embrace. She searched in her handbag for a handkerchief. They both tried to regain their composure and dry their tears.

"Look at us," Tom said. "We're a crying mess."

Sybil smiled sheepishly. "We are." She wiped her tears away and took a deep breath. "Did it help though?" she then asked tentatively. "Does it help that I told you now?"

Tom sighed. "I suppose," he answered. He slowly raised his eyes too hers. "I think it helps, yes. But I have no idea what to do now."

Sybil nodded, looking back. "Me neither," she said in a small voice.

Xxxxxx

Mary sighed when she opened the door to her flat, yet another long day. She felt tired and that wasn't a feeling she was used to. Usually she had energy for three and work didn't exhaust her. Annoying people did, or dating, but never work. That had been the reason why she gave up dating a year ago. It had been such a waste of time. She had decided that she was much happier single.

She put the salad she had bought for herself on her way home on the counter in the kitchen and went to the drawer to get a plate when her mobile rang. Mary looked at the display and answered immediately.

"Sybil, Darling! I'm so glad you called!" She put the phone under her ear while she put the salad on her plate. "I was worried after we talked yesterday."

"I'm okay," her sister answered. "I was just mad."

Mary raised her eyebrow. "But why? What did I do?"

On the other end of the line Sybil shook her head. _What did I expect? _

"Because you asked me why I was upset about meeting Tom. Mary! After all what I've been through and you choose to ask me that? I thought you knew me better."

There was silence for a moment. "What you've been through? But Sybil ..."

"You knew how much I loved him. I told you numerous times, and you knew how much I regretted giving him up!"

"What? But Sybil, we agreed ..."

"_We_ didn't agree on anything." Sybil said quietly. "You and Papa and Granny did. _You_ agreed that _you_ knew what was best for me and I paid the price."

"Don't be so melodramatic, darling," Mary said, annoyed. "You definitely would have paid the price if we'd let you go to Dublin with an unemployed journalist then. You were 21 for heaven's sake!"

"I loved him," Sybil said. "I wasted five years of my life and of his, just because I listened to my family."

Mary rolled her eyes. Sybil was just hopeless. She didn't doubt that this "Tom" had been a nice guy, but she still was convinced that it would have been mad for Sybil to waste her life and career on some Irish journalist at the age of 21. She was willing to bet _he_ didn't waste any time getting over Sybil. She only vaguely remembered him, having met him only a few times, but she remembered that aside from being an annoying "lefty" he was good-looking and liked to party. No doubt he had found another girlfriend in no time.

Of course she had to admit that Sybil's marriage to Larry Grey had been a disaster, but that had been Sybil's decision alone. Maybe they could have known that Sybil wasn't ready for a new relationship, but it had been difficult to decipher Sybil's feelings at that time. It wasn't surprising that the family had been supportive of the match, Lord Merton was her father's best friend and they all had known Larry since childhood. How were they to know he would turn out to be abusive to her? They couldn't have known and luckily she was rid of him now.

"I went to see him yesterday evening, "Sybil said .

"What? Tom? Is he still in town?"

"Yes he is," said Sybil. "I told him everything. We talked half through the night. It was cathartic. He's coming to dinner tonight."

Mary shook her head. "Sybil, you think that's wise?" she pleaded. "I don't want to see you hurt! Don't get emotionally attached to him again. You built some imaginary picture of him in your head, put him on a pedestal. He might have changed and you will be disappointed again, darling."

But Sybil didn't want to hear that. "I'll take the risk," she said firmly. "And this time I will only listen to my heart."


	7. Chapter 7

_So here's Tom and Sybil meeting for dinner part one. I must admit, I'm a bit stuck right now. I have some ideas how the story could proceed, but have it not sorted out yet. So I hope my muse starts working again soon! If someone has ideas for the scenes they'd like to see, please feel free to tell me. I'm open to suggestions._

_._

_._

Tom's heart was beating nervously when he stood outside Sybil's flat. He was holding the bottle of wine in his hand so tightly, that his knuckles turned white.

To say he was surprised that Sybil invited him to dinner was an understatement. After her confession at his hotel room the night before, they had talked for a while but parted without an idea what they wanted to happen now. They had exchanged numbers and promised "to stay in touch", but neither had said how they wanted to do that, and if Tom was being honest with himself, he almost expected Sybil to leave it at that and disappear from his life again, but she didn't. He woke up the next morning to a text from her, inviting him to her flat for the same evening and Tom didn't hesitate to accept.

He was nervous for the remaining day, his thoughts going to the evening every ten minutes at the very least. He asked himself numerous questions. What they were going to do? Was there any chance that they would come together again? Was it realistic to hope? Because despite hoping, he had to be honest with himself. It was true, what he had said to Sybil. He never stopped loving her and if he could have her in his life again, he would take the chance no matter what.

He had stopped working in the early afternoon, because there was no sense in pretending he was able to work anyway after staring blindly at his computer for hours. With a sigh, he had shut down his laptop and decided to go for a walk instead. In a shop nearby he had looked for something to bring with him and after fighting an inner battle over flowers or wine, he had decided to go with the wine in the end, because he didn't want it to appear too much like a date. He had no idea what this dinner meant.

When he had returned to the hotel, he had showered and shaved and then stood in front of the wardrobe in the room unable to decide what to wear. One of his working suits seemed too formal, jeans and a t-shirt seemed not formal enough. He didn't have much choice though, he didn't bring a whole wardrobe after all, so he went with jeans, shirt and a sports jacket. This had to do.

He had decided against taking a cab to Sybil's flat, he still had known his way well enough to go by tube and he had been early when he had arrived at her door. She lived in a much fancier part of the town than she used to when they were both students. The house looked nice and for a brief moment he wondered if she had lived here with her husband, but decided that he didn't want to think about it.

Needing a moment to calm down, he took a deep breath and counted to ten before he pressed the doorbell.

Xxxxxx

Unbeknown to him, Sybil had very much the same thoughts when she dressed for dinner. Like him she had been very nervous all day and like him she didn't really know what to expect. After her confession, she had felt the ball was in her court when it came to decide how to stay in contact and so she decided that she wasn't going to waste Tom's week in town. She knew she wanted to see him again and so she had sent him the text with an invitation to dinner.

She only had two classes in the morning, so she had time enough to think about what she was going to cook and then shop for groceries. She wasn't really a cook and Tom knew that, but she wanted to prepare something nice and tasty without running risk of mess it up. So she had chosen easy things. A salad for starters, then gnocchi gorgonzola and a mousse au chocolat for dessert.

In between cooking, she had called her friend Gwen, needing reassurance and a confidence boost and, as usual Gwen had given her both. She was her best friend and Sybil was forever grateful that the red haired girl had come into her life when she was at her lowest point. Gwen didn't know Tom, but she knew that there had been a man in Sybil's life that she was heartbroken about and so she was of course thrilled to hear that Sybil had met up with him again and that he now was coming for dinner!

"That's amazing," Gwen said. "What are you going to do now? Is there a chance that you and he will end up together again?"

"I don't know," Sybil answered honestly. "It's complicated. We haven't seen one another for five years. Maybe it is just the memory of what we had? He must have changed so much. I know I have! And I mean, even if we wanted to be together, I'm stuck on a contract here with Professor Bennet for at least another two years and Tom has his dream job in Ireland. There's not really a way—"

"There's always a way, Sybil," Gwen interjected. "You'll figure it out. If that's what you two want, you'll find a way."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Who knows what he feels now?"

"But what do you feel?" her friend asked. "You only seem to talk about his feelings."

Sybil sighed. "All I know is. I can't fathom the thought of losing him again."

Xxxxxx

"Your flat is lovely," Tom said to her when she showed him around. "It looks just as I would imagine.."

Sybil laughed. "I won't tell you how I imagine your place."

"No? I can't think why?" he grinned, not the least offended. "Don't you think I could be living somewhere stylish now?"

Her blue eyes sparkled and she shook her head slightly. "Not if you're a just bit like your self five years ago," she smiled. "If I could take a guess, I would guess the word "practical" would be a perfect term to describe your flat in a nice way."

"Ah! Boring in a not so nice way," he suggested still grinning and she chuckled.

"You said that, not me."

"It's true though I'm afraid," he smiled. "I don't have your talent to make a flat a home. Mine is pretty empty and not entirely inviting. I live there, but that's about it, I guess."

They stepped out on the small roof terrace, offering a great view over London. "This is really great. So how long have you lived here?"

"Two years now. I bought it when I separated from Larry."

"Wow, you bought it?"

Sybil nodded. "Yes. After I married the 'right guy' in my parent's eyes, I received the money my grandmother left me." Her voice turned bitter. "I didn't even know before that I had it. Oddly, they didn't mention any money when I announced that I wanted to go to Ireland."

Tom's eyes widened. "It would have been yours even back then?"

"Yes," Sybil said. "Anyway, when I separated from Larry, I was wise enough to plan it all secretly at first. Luckily, he didn't suspect a thing and so I was able to buy this place before telling him I was leaving and before he started emptying my accounts. He transferred anything else to his own account and in the end I started here with nothing but a flat in my possession, but I had my job and so it wasn't too bad."

"What a jerk," Tom said disgusted.

Sybil's face darkened. "He was," she said quietly. "And stealing my money was only one little thing compared to his—" She stopped, not wanting to go there. She clearly remembered the pain, the humiliation and the bruises she had after Larry's violent rages. _No, don't go there. He's out of your life! _

Tom saw the emotions on her face and his heart clenched. Sybil had called Larry "an abusive husband" when they talked yesterday. Did she actually mean that he _hit_ her? His breath caught at the thought of it and he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from asking. It was too soon to ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. For now, it had to be enough that he was here with her, able to talk to her, to watch her beautiful face, to feel close after all these years.

"So," he deliberately changed the topic to lighten the mood and winked at her. "No offence, but I distinctly remember you being a terrible cook five years ago. So tell me, what do I have to expect for dinner?"

Sybil laughed. "People _do_ change, Tom," she grinned. "And sometimes even for the better."


End file.
